Nouveau jeu
by RenShep
Summary: The Reapers have won. Shepard has died. And Garrus Vakarian wakes to find himself back in 2183. A groundhog day story where Garrus goes back to the beginning of the game with his memories intact. Only, when he meets up with Shepard something is really wrong... Paragon to Renegade Shepard
1. Chapter 1

Vega pulled one of Garrus' arms around his shoulders, wrapped a hand around his waist and pulled him towards the belly of the Normandy. Unable to support himself, Garrus was forced to follow his lead. He could feel himself bleeding into his bodysuit; the break in his leg must have punctured his hide. He turned back once they'd reached the top of the ramp, looking for her, making certain she'd follow.

He was not surprised to see her feet still planted firmly on her home planet, ignoring the ramp leading up into their home.

"Shepard," he'd said, his voice taking on a pleading quality. He wasn't ready to let her go. Not without him. He belonged by her side.

"You've got to get out of here!" she yelled up the ramp, her eyes sorrowful but determined.

He knew that look. He knew precisely what she was thinking. From here on out she'd have to go on alone. She'd give her life to this one battle if need be. This was their last stand. He would do the same for Palaven. But she wasn't just doing it for Earth. She was doing it for everyone. She never, not once, wasted a life if she could help it, and she wasn't done yet.

His throat constricted, anger at this fate building in his chest. "And you've got to be kidding me!" He growled forcefully, a catch in his voice betraying his distress. He tried to reach out to her but Vega had a firm hold, and he'd lost a lot of blood.

She spoke again, approached him, touched him one last time; but he was too absorbed with staring at her, memorizing her expression, the scent of her, the exact shade of her eyes, to pay much attention. He wished he was free to hold her once more.

They always knew it might come to this. There had been so many close calls in the past. Hell, he'd even lost her once before. But something about this time was different. Instinctively he knew she wouldn't make it back. That this was where they parted.

"I'm sorry." She whispered a she backed down the ramp.

"I know." He answered, realizing she probably couldn't hear him.

As the ramp closed, cutting of his view of her, he sank to his knees and keened out his grief; not giving a single damn who heard him.

xXxXx

He went over those last moments in his head repeatedly over the past hours. He sat on the observation deck, staring out at the stars. His midsection was heavily bandaged, his right leg newly set and cast. He would have gotten up and poured himself a drink but he knew it wouldn't help, he was already filled with painkillers, and they did nothing to ease the ache in his chest.

He would have preferred to be in the main battery, cocooned by the faint familiar hum of the weapon systems, but it was currently occupied by two Geth and EDI. The AI had been removed from the copilots chair by a human who'd been sent to relieve Joker as necessary. EDI, of course, didn't need to be in the cockpit to know everything going on in the ship.

Admiral Hackett had already moved into Shepard's quarters.

It has been 43 hours since he had last seen Shepard, and 21 since the news had come. Earth was lost. Full retreat.

Shepard, her body likely now cold, lay somewhere among the ruins of the Citadel, hanging above the burning planet below; where billions of humans fought in vain for their lives. A full evacuation had never been a possibility.

The Normandy was full of new faces, the crew easily doubled in size. Wrex had made it back, Liara and Tali still on board. Ashley hadn't, though last they'd heard she was still alive; Vega had returned to fight and was still down there. He had been badly wounded according to the reports, hell, he was probably already gone as well. Javik stayed behind to fight alongside the humans, hopeless as it was. Without the crucible they were lost. Javik had seen it before.

Garrus had tried to keep busy, even injured as he was, but it had proved difficult. It was probably for the best. He really wasn't in the frame of mind necessary to do anything productive. The real Normandy crew members, those who knew, gave him space and asked little of him. A few had come to briefly share their sorrow and offer their sympathy. The new crew members likely hadn't worked closely with other species before, at least, not as closely as Normandy crew, and gave him a wide berth.

He was running out of excuses to stay awake any longer. He hadn't slept since he'd said those pathetic last words to her. He was afraid what images his mind might conjure in his sleep. But when he finally did sleep, it was blissfully dreamless.

xXxXx

When he woke, bleary eyed and stiff, the first thing he noticed was the temperature, which was much warmer than it had been when he finally nodded off in the observation deck. The Normandy was generally kept at a temperature comfortable for humans and asari, but cooler than most turians liked. But now the temperature was a blissfully warm. Warm enough to go without armor or clothing, neither of which he seemed to be wearing. The fog began to slowly clear as he realized that not only was he not in the observation deck; he wasn't even on the Normandy. The scents were all wrong. Familiar, but_ wrong_. It was too quiet, and given the lack of steady vibration associated with most engines, he wasn't even on a ship. He jumped from where he lay, knocking something over in the dark, a crash followed by the telltale sound of shattering glass.

Trying to get his bearings he looked around in the darkness. There, to his right, he saw a light, just a slip of it, as if under a door, barely noticeable.

He approached it carefully, hands out in front of himself in an attempt to avoid knocking anything else over, cursing as he felt a sliver of glass cut into his bare foot. When he reached the wall he felt along for a control panel, finding it quickly, just to the right of the door. As the illumination flooded his surroundings he felt the breath rush from his lungs, his heart took a step back and missed a beat.

This definitely wasn't the Normandy.

This was his shitty apartment on the citadel, the one he had when he was a C-Sec officer. A single small room, cramped bathroom behind the galley kitchen, the space itself minimally furnished. A few empty bottles lined up on the counter, weapon mods spread out over a low table, armor neatly stacked near the door of the bathroom. He would recognize this place anywhere.

But what the _fuck_ was he doing here? He had given up this place years ago, shortly after he'd left the SR1 and started his less than celebrated career as a vigilante. He moved into the room, feeling unbalanced, searching for some clothing and caught sight of his reflection in the tiles of the kitchen surround. Rushing into the bath he hit the lights to take in the reflection in the mirror. His face no longer bore the scars he'd become so familiar with, the ones detailing the death of Archangel. He stood there, in shock, staring at his reflection. His reflection stared back, familiar but so wrong. _Young. Unseasoned. Unscarred._

He pulled up the news feeds on his omni tool. The date stood out, glaring at him.

It was 2183.

A distinct buzz sounded in his ears, the sound growing with intensity as he fully contemplated this revelation. Vertigo overwhelmed him.

He sat down, his clothing forgotten.

xXxXx

He paced the presidium. _This was that day._

His morning had passed in a haze of confusion and denial. He tried to figure out the situation, but he had no sense of how it could possibly have happened. He wasn't dreaming, not as far as he could tell. Time travel, though sought after by every sapient race, had proved to be impossibility, beyond any laws of physics. But it was exactly as it had been, over three years before. HE was exactly as he had been, physically at least. When he realized what day it was it was like a slap in the face. It was one he would never forget. But in some twisted way it was the only day which logically made sense. This was the day he had met with Shepard for the first time. The day he'd convinced her to allow him to join the crew of the Normandy SR-1, the day which changed the course of his life.

Back in his apartment he had come across the data pad with his notes on Saren. Every bit of useless information he's come across, proving nothing, but not _disproving_ anything, either. Hurriedly he'd dressed in his armor, a much less expensive set than what he had grown accustomed to wearing. _Had it always pinched at his elbow?_ He had hours left before their meeting, but quickly packed a bag, _just in case. _He strapped on his weapons before he left. Standard C-sec issue, and like his armor, not the quality he was now used to.

Stepping out into the Citadel he took in his surroundings as best he could. Everything was the same. Everything precisely the same as it had been before Saren and Sovereign and the Reapers. A vid screen showed a preview for _Fleet and Flotilla_, which hadn't been released yet. People went about their daily routine relaxed, content, unhurried. No tension, well, no more than was typical for the peacetime Citadel.

Garrus, on the other hand, was noticeably tense. He was doing his best to suppress the panic threatening to overwhelm him. How was this even possible? It wasn't a dream. It couldn't be a dream. It was too real. The sounds the scents, far too tangible to be a mere memory. As he made his way to the presidium he noted that there were no scars from Saren or Sovereign, no added security after the attempted coup by Uldina. Everything was just as it had been.

He arrived knowing he was far too early. So he paced.

xXxXx

_Spirits, let her remember everything,_ he thought for the thousandth time. Maybe together they could figure this out.

His heart thudded in his chest when he saw her walking in his direction, her lean form familiar even from the distance. Kaidan and Ashley were in tow, the former looking around wide eyed, the latter's eyes pointed straight ahead. The closer they got the more things seemed _off_.

This was Shepard, this was definitely Commander Jane Shepard, but this was not the Shepard Garrus knew and loved. She smelled the same; he would recognize her scent anywhere. The scar above her brow, which had disappeared when Cerberus resurrected her, was back where it was on that day they'd first met. She was tall, broad shouldered, distinctly angular for a human, particularly when compared with the rounder figure of Ashley; exactly as she had been.

But this was not _his_ Shepard.

Even from several yards away he could tell something was different. The line of her mouth, for one, was tight, grim. A few new scars grazed her face, a small semicircle running through her upper lip, giving her a slight sneer. Another longer, thicker scar marred one side of her neck. Her gaze was colder then he remembered from that day; her stance somehow more aggressive. She glanced up at him and made eye contact, no recognition on her face. Her eyes, he realized were blue, not the greenish brown they'd been before. There was no warmth in her icy gaze.

He stepped into her path. She stared at him, eyes narrowed, sizing him up. He couldn't find his voice for a moment, part of him hoping that suddenly something would crack, that recognition would light her features. But that didn't happen. He realized he had to speak.

"Commander Shepard?" She nodded at him, acknowledging the question but remaining silent. "I'm Garrus Vakarian, C-Sec officer leading the investigation into Saren." There was a catch in his voice, though not for the same reasons there had been the first time. The first time he'd been slightly surprised that the lithe woman with such kind eyes had been the hero of Elysium. This time the hesitation was due to the differences between his Shepard and this usurper.

Was that a shotgun strapped to her back? She never used a shotgun.

Her expression remained unchanged by his introduction, her gaze cool. "Vakarian, you said?"

"Ah, yes, ma'am." He handed her the data pad containing the information he'd gathered. She took it, taking her eyes off him to peruse the files. She glanced up when he spoke again. "Saren is up to something, I know it." Hadn't he said similar words before? Could he even break away from the script?

Kaidan stood behind her his eyes glued to her profile, had he always been so plain in his desire? He'd died so long ago Garrus couldn't recall. Beside him, Ashley was looking at Garrus warily. He nodded to her, she nodded back. The lack of recognition once again startled him.

_Come on Ash, you know me._

He prodded, "Excuse me, have we met before? You look familiar," he almost held his breath. Hoping for something. _Anything._

"I doubt it." She replied and turned away from him. Point taken, he moved onto Shepard. Shepard who wasn't Shepard at all.

"Commander, may I speak plainly?" He asked. He hadn't really meant to say that. What he wanted to ask was _'Who the hell ARE you? What have you done with Shepard?'_ but he didn't. He couldn't. He didn't even know if he could trust her yet.

She turned her gaze up from the data pad a second time, her eyes once again startling him in their peculiarity in the familiar face. She nodded to him once, "go ahead."

"The council won't like this, going after one of their Spectres, and they won't make it easy on you. The turian councilor will be dead set against it. He holds some old grudges from the First Contact War and has a distinct dislike for humanity. He's really not going to be happy about a human questioning Saren's loyalty. But I know that Saren has gone rogue." _Hell, I've lived it._

"Anything else I should know?" She was all business. There was no smile, no warmth, no appreciation for his information or warning. Her face was a mask, unreadable, which her made look even less like the real Shepard.

He wanted to scream.

_You mean like how I've lived all this once before? How you're occupying the body of my one time lover? Oh, and Saren? He's already dead. The fellow behind you? The one with the big brown eyes and bad haircut? He's dead, too. You, yourself, have died twice before. Or, at least, some version of you. Paleven is lost, Earth is lost. But hey, you might just get to go through three years of pain, suffering and frustration before you will get the chance to realize that._

But instead he simply said, "No, Commander. Good luck. If you need me don't hesitate to contact C-sec."

"Thanks, Vakarian." She turned on her heel and walked away.

He watched her retreat, feeling even more disoriented than before.


	2. Chapter 2

As soon as she was out of sight he found the nearest bench and sat down, still trying to wrap his head around what was going on. How as this even possible? He had seen some pretty fucked up shit during his life but this - he didn't have the words to describe it. Why had he been returned to this time and place? Why hadn't Ashley, at the very least recognized him? Shepard might not be the same, but Ashley was Ashley, as far as he could tell.

He pulled up his omni tool and started searching through any and all information he could find regarding Commander Shepard.

The results were startling. His Shepard had been known for her heroics on Elysium. But there was no mention of Elysium. Not a word regarding the blitz. Instead the words Akuze and thresher maw leaped from the page.

That she'd survived when fifty of her fellow soldiers had not was remarkable on its own merit. That she'd managed to kill two of the beasts on her own was even more so. Unheard of even. She'd managed to survive long enough for a rescue crew to come after her, but was badly wounded. The first week it wasn't known if she'd fully recover, at least, that is what the doctors reported. Anderson had been quoted as calling her "tough as hell."

She further went on to prove her fortitude by recovering. Physically at least.

C-sec had additional information hidden away in their database. He knew it would bring up questions should anyone notice, but he was well beyong caring. He input his pin and searched.

She'd been arrested on numerous occasions since Akuze. Fighting mostly, drunken brawls in the wards, a scuffle outside one of the nicer clubs closer to the presidium as well; he recognized the opposing names on a couple of the arrests. In general low life scum C-sec hadn't been able to get enough info on to make an arrest. She hadn't been formally charged with anything, likely Alliance brass had thrown around their weight to get the altercations removed from her public record. There was an icon in the corner indicating attachments, he pulled them up.

He wasn't surprised that there was a great deal of information on her; they had been pushing her towards Spectre candidacy after all. The file indicated she was born on Earth and joined the Alliance very young. There was no mention of her parents, no mention of having been raised by a military family. In fact, parentage was marked as "unknown." Her criminal record went back through her youth. She'd been arrested several times as a minor. Theft, drug possession, assault; and a few more interesting arrests including "borrowing" a shuttle (and violating air speed regulations) as well as public indecency and starting not one, but two riots.

Given her history he had to wonder why they'd even considered her for Spectre candidacy.

Given her history he had to wonder why she was free to walk among the unsuspecting public.

Once she enlisted, however, she seemed to straighten out. Or at least do a better job avoiding getting caught. There was a link to her psychological profile, but when he clicked on it found it needed better clearance than he had. He considered hacking into it, but that would take time. Time he didn't know if he had. Besides, could always get back to it later.

He tried searching for her mother but that turned out to be a dead end. Hannah Shepard was nowhere to be found. She didn't even seem to exist.

Who the hell was this Shepard? Panic, again, threatened to take over. But he had no time for that and shook it off. What had started as an incomprehensible day had become even more so, and he had no idea what course of action he should take. He could stay here; wait for Shepard to leave and - what? Confront her? Stalk her across the Citadel? Stow away on the Normandy?

With a start he realized the time, suddenly remembering there was somewhere else he needed to be right now. A place, in fact, which had gone a long way to securing his place on the Normandy the first time.

He rushed off to Dr. Michel's clinic hoping he'd be earlier than he'd been last time.

He wasn't.

xXxXx

Shepard caught up with him, just as she had before. Rushing in, she created a welcome distraction, just as she had the first time. What was the human phrase? Deja vu? It was an errie feeling, one he tried not to focus on. Seeing the combatants attention waver he knew, once again, he could make the shot. He hesitated, but only for a second second, remembering what she'd – no, not she – how the _real_ Shepard had chastised him for risking Dr. Michel. But he took it anyway. This new, imposter Shepard sauntered up to him and nodded once, a cocky smirk on her face, "Nice shot." She said before turning away and questioning the Doctor about Fist.

The knot in his stomach hardened.

This very moment, he realized, was the moment he had asked Shepard to take him along in the hunt for Saren; when everything changed. This might be his only chance he had. This Shepard was all wrong, but he couldn't let her go on without him, and he might not have another chance. As screwed up as the whole situation was he knew he couldn't risk being left behind. The Reaper war was still fresh in his mind. It was only yesterday to him that they'd ordered a full retreat, that Earth and Shepard were lost.

Without Shepard, without the knowledge they'd obtained over the course of the next few years they'd be completely unprepared for the Reapers.

And he knew well and good that he was no longer an "Expert Reaper Advisor". He was back to being just a C-sec officer who bristled at authority once again. And no one was going to listen to him. If this was some sort of new - chance - to get things right, he needed to get on the Normandy. Especially if he was the only one who remembered what the near future would bring.

"Shepard, I want to come with you."

She looked up at him, eyes narrowed slightly. "What about C-Sec, Officer Vakarian?"

"C-Sec doesn't need me, and truth be told, I'm not a really good fit. Red tape and I have a long history of not getting along. Getting Saren is more important, I know he's guilty, and I can't help from here." He hesitated a moment before speaking again, "And I have a feeling something _really_ big is behind all this."

She folded her arms across her chest, and tilted her head slightly while seeming to consider this. "What makes you say that?"

_If only you knew. _ "Let's just say that I have really good intuition when it comes to these things."

Her gaze was cool and direct, he could tell she didn't buy that line. But she nodded anyway. "Get your things and meet us at the docking bay. We leave within an hour." She held out her hand and shook his. " Welcome aboard, Vakarian."

xXxXx

Over the course of the next few weeks Garrus observed her. He observed the rest of the crew as well. They were the same as before, as far as he could tell. Ashley remained unsure of him, she was unsure of all the "aliens" on board, but he knew she would come around. Tali was Tali, and still reminded him a great deal of Solana. Though she seemed younger somehow. Everyone did. Well, they were younger, he supposed. Liara, she was the same as she had been before she'd become the Shadowbroker. He'd considered going to her, asking her to get into his head, curious to whether or not she could see what he'd been through, see the other Shepard in his mind. But something held him back.

He hadn't really paid much attention to Kaidan before; he hadn't much time before he'd died. He could see that he had a good heart, good intentions, but the way he'd gaze at Shepard with longing set him on edge. How could the biotic be so oblivious to the fact that THIS Shepard would eat him alive? Or did he have some sort of fantasy of taking this cold, damaged Shepard and saving her from herself? Either way, Garrus wasn't impressed by these events. Even less so that she never seemed to rebuff his attentions. She didn't exactly encourage it, but she'd smirk that cocky grin of hers and regard him with – _something_. Garrus couldn't tell for certain. She was so much more difficult to read than the real Shepard had been.

Over time, Garrus grudgingly admitted to himself that Kaidan was in fact much more suited to the real Shepard; in fact, the soft spoken biotic would have suited her very well. He tried not to hold it against him though, even if he didn't like it. It certainly wasn't his fault, and if things continued as they had been, Kaidan would likely not be around for long. Unless he could find a way to prevent it. But he was beginning to doubt he had any sort of control over their fate.

He had tried, on several occasions, to change their course, thinking that he could alter the future somehow. Save them all some of the frustration, loss and pain they had all endured on their previous (or was that future?) journey. Several times he nearly broke down and told Shepard everything, each and every time _something_ prevented him.

He desperately wanted to find a way to change things, to improve their chances of winning that final war, save what lives could be saved. Destiny, it seemed, felt differently. For every suggestion he made, course he took, there was a roadblock, a detour, bringing them back to exactly where they had stood before. He felt like he was nothing more than a passenger in this timeline.

Hell, every mission seemed to end with the same outcome.

_Almost._

Dr. Saleon. Garrus brought him up to Shepard much the way he had the previous time around. It wasn't like anyone else was going to go after him, and he _did_ need to be stopped. Existential angst be damned. The altercation with "Dr. Hart" had been a life changing experience for Garrus. His entire perspective towards what truly constituted justice had changed that day when Shepard had ordered him to stand down.

The found him on the MSV Fedele, as before. The monster tried to thank them for his rescue, the bastard. Spirits, he hated this guy. But he didn't move to take the shot. No, he was going to do what the real Shepard would want; take him into custody, see Justice served. That was his intent anyway. But as soon as he confirmed that this was Dr. Saleon, not Dr. Hart to Shepard, that that no longer an option. Shepard shot the salarian straight through the chest. He fell to the floor with a thud. Mission complete.

Garrus was furious.

He had rounded on her and snapped, "Ever think of allowing justice to play out using the proper channels, Shepard? Ever think that guy deserved some sort of trial?"

"Did you, or did you not, just tell me he was guilty of growing organs in poor, desperate employees, slice them apart, sell them massive amounts of credits and pay the poor sods a pittance in return? That is,_ IF_ they survived?"

"That's not the point!" he bit out.

She got in his face, raising herself up to her full height, and while she still had to look up at him the figure she cut was no less imposing. "That IS the point! Saleon kept of slipping out of C-secs grasp, YOUR grasp. Who's to say he wouldn't do it again?" He bit back a retort as she continued, motioning to the carnage behind her. "Look around you? All the evidence you ever wanted is right here." She pointed down at his body, "That guy didn't deserve another chance and you know it." Getting back into Garrus' face she placed one finger in the center of his chest and pushed, all but growling at him, "And since you seem to have forgotten, Vakarian, I AM your commanding officer."

Their eyes had locked; a silent battle of wills took place. Rage still boiling under the surface he finally yielded. "Yes, _Commander_."

"Try not to forget that in the future."

The changes in her continued to baffle him, intrigue him, and anger him. Shepard, who could barely set her own alarm, could now bypass a door faster than he ever could. This Shepard, if handed a sniper rifle, would likely be better off using it as a club. She didn't have the patience to handle one any other way. Not to say she wasn't a well-seasoned and highly skilled soldier, she was. She was ruthless on the battlefield, but liked to work up close and personal. She was slender still, and didn't have the muscle that a male would have, but she was fast. Spirits - she was fast; fast and incredibly fierce.

An image came to mind of a recent battle. She had shoved the end of her shotgun into the mouth of a krogan, blowing the top of his head off. She had turned away and looked up at Garrus where he was perched, catching his eye. Her teeth were bared in a vicious grin, her face had been spattered with blood and gore, and she seemed to revel in it; a perfect, coldblooded predator.

To Garrus the sight had been painfully erotic. Adrenaline already up, he felt himself harden and lengthen inside his armor. He imagined pulling the red haired virago into an alcove and fucking her, hard and fast. His mouth salivated at the idea of gripping her shoulder, tasting her blood on his tongue, and holding her there as he brutally pounded into her. It had never been like that with his Shepard, he had always been careful with her the few times they'd been together. Careful not to to mar her skin, to not, hell, frighten her with his more agressive side, no matter how badly he wanted to let it out. But with this one, a growl bubbled into this throat, this one could handle it. Hell, she'd probably _demand_ it. He might not understand her, but he knew her body, and damned if he didn't want to demonstrate to her just how well he did. His blood thickened, his cock throbbed, and he hated her for it.

His resentment for her grew as her every action caused his memories of the real Shepard to fade a little more. On some level he was beginning to realize that this Shepard was a better match for him than his Shepard had ever been. His Shepard knew, somehow, that they hadn't been well suited, not entirely. It's likely why their romance was so short lived. _Too_ short lived. He'd agreed with her decision to end it, to be the friend she needed, even if he hadn't been able to stop wanting her. He wished he hadn't agreed with her so easily now, wished he'd pushed her for more. But he had _always_ deferred to her judgment in everything.

He hadn't always agreed with her of course, they had simply been far too different for that to ever happen. There were times when he had thought a more concise approach would have been the better move. But his Shepard, well, she always believed the best of everyone, and took people for their word. Sometimes it backfired. He never voiced his concern when he thought she was making the wrong choice, he trusted her judgment. In retrospect, maybe he should have.

And such a thought was no better than treason in his mind.

His anger towards the new Shepard continued to grow.

Something about this Shepard caused him to bristle under her command, make the occasional snide comment when she wasn't doing what Shepard was _supposed_ to do. More often than not, however, he agreed with her. He wouldn't have dreamed of voicing most of his concerns before, and certainly not mouthing off or showing the slightest amount of disrespect. Not to her, the REAL Shepard. Now though, he was just was so different from that idealistic young C-sec officer he had been. Omega, Shepard and the Reapers had forged him into who he was. But he had still retained his rebellious side. And this Shepard just rubbed him the wrong way.

And even though he could accept these changes in himself, he somehow couldn't in her. It was probably, quite simply, that she failed to live up to the first Shepard; that kind, compassionate female, always quick to laugh, and so full of patience and understanding. Always putting others first. In her place her new namesake was quick to anger, impatient -_ flawed. _

Some things about her remained similar. She was no less effective on the battlefield, more so, really. With less caution taken they got through their missions faster. He was becoming grateful, almost, that he's spent so many hours at his other Shepard's side, seen so much. He'd needed the practice to keep up with this Shepard. She never hesitated and always jumped in with both feet, guns blazing. They worked together well, that could not be denied. And in the end, she always got the job done, even if she did use different methods to reach the same goal.

She was much more likely to bully someone into complying with her wishes than trying to reason with them.

His Shepard had been a great diplomat.

This Shepard was an outstanding soldier.

And though he was loath to admit it, a few of her quirks Garrus enjoyed immensely. The way she handled the council for one. The interloper Shepard was about as tactful as a drunken krogan. Short tempered she more often than not allowed herself to speak before thinking, and he found himself having to bite his tongue to keep from laughing a few times. It was highly entertaining watching the turian councilor sputter and fume. She was downright cruel to Udina on occasion. The traitorous bastard had it coming, even if she didn't know it yet.

Other changes gave him cause for concern. She rarely smiled, on the rare occasion she laughed it was usually twisted with cynicism, and sometimes, when she didn't know she was being observed, a look of sadness crossed her features. That look worried him, more than he wanted it to. It never lasted long, and was always quickly replaced by her stoic, cold mask. But there was definitely something there, some underlying pain, or perhaps it was regret.

Regret was something Garrus was intimately familiar with.

A part of him wanted to confront her about it; ease that ache from her, and share her burdens. She needed someone, he could see that, but she was probably too stubborn to accept it. And he was damned if he would be the one to give it to her. Part of him wanted lash out of her for causing these feelings to bubble up in him to begin with.

She still spent time speaking with the crew, himself included. But their conversations were much more brief than they had been in the past. He was fairly certain her motive for taking this time was that she knew it was an effective way of building a team, and at that, she still excelled. But these talks were was devoid of the sense of playfulness, of friendliness which the old Shepard projected.

She was a mystery. A mystery he was uncertain he wanted to unravel.

Or even if he was up to the task.


	3. Chapter 3

**Shepard:**

The turian was watching her.

_Again._

She was accustomed to attention, used to being singled out, even if she didn't like it. But this was different than someone wanting to gain some insight into the survivor of Azuke, or an alliance soldier wanting to know about N7 training. The way Garrus Vakarian seemed to look through her made her uneasy. The intensity of his focus was something she simply did not understand, and she didn't like that. She could not figure him out, and it was wearing on her nerves.

In a fight they were like two parts of the same machine. They worked together effortlessly, like they'd done so a thousand times before. They had a natural rhythm which bordered on perfection. He was exceedingly capable, of that she was certain. If she didn't know any better she could have sworn he knew how she would act even before she did. He was always right there when she needed him, always on her six. He followed orders, never hesitated; he was accurate, lethal and she trusted him implacably.

Truth be told, she needed him.

On the battlefield.

Off the battlefield she still hadn't figured him out. And she was not a woman accustomed to dealing with a puzzle she couldn't put together.

She'd find him staring at her at odd times, and in a particular fashion she couldn't understand. Even if she caught his eye he'd just keep on looking, never breaking eye contact. Was he challenging her? She couldn't tell. She'd catch him watching her as she ate, as she spoke to others or gave orders, hell, once when she had fallen asleep on the shuttle after a particularly long mission she woke up to find his eyes on her; startling in their intensity.

The first time she'd taken her armor off in front of him, he'd stared in open shock. The fact that he didn't turn away immediately surprised her. Most people didn't look long, not since Akuze that is. Clad in only a sports bra and shorts, the scars stood out clearly against her pale freckled skin, twisting around her body like grotesque, ghostly fingers.

He had tilted his head as he studied the thick, uneven markings. She watched his eyes trace them from collar bone to ankle, and then up again. When he finally met her gaze they held for only a moment before he turned away.

It was the only time he ceded eye contact first.

Another time, during a particularly up close and personal fight, the look he had given her rattled her to her core. She'd just put down a massive krogan by blowing out the back of its skull. The last of the bodies had just hit the ground and she turned to catch his gaze, a triumphant grin on her blood splattered face. He had drawn himself up to his full, impressive height, a growl emanating from him, faint but audible. Though she was no expert at turian expressions, he seemed to be staring at her with open lust.

Her pulse, already racing from adrenaline, had pounded in her veins. That look had affected her more than she cared to admit.

Then, on the shuttle right back to the Normandy, he sat sullenly in his seat regarding her coldly.

She knew his age, his service record. He'd been in the turian military as all young turian's are required to do. From there he'd moved on to C-sec. But he was far more seasoned than he should have been. He seemed older than he should have. And for a turian who did go from the military directly to C-sec, he was almost eerily comfortable around humans, even tossing around the occasional human phrase.  
Something about this turian, it just didn't add up.

She felt his eyes on her again. She turned to confront him with a look of her own. He straightened but didn't turn away. Not that she expected him to. Once again, she wasn't familiar with his expression, and didn't know enough about him to decipher it, but it made her uncomfortable.

And THAT pissed her off.

**Garrus**:

"Vakarian, a word?"

He pulled himself out from under the Mako. He could see she was clearly irritated, which pleased him somehow. He made a show of calmly wiping the grease off his hands with a rag before answering. "Of course, Shepard."

Her eyes narrowed at him. "Why are you always watching me?"

He leaned up against the Mako casually. "Everyone's always watching you, you're the commander."

A muscle in her jaw clenched. "Don't play dumb, it doesn't suit you. And I _know_ you're not stupid. The way you watch me is different."

He shrugged, knowing it would annoy her, and enjoying the fact he was getting under her skin. "Maybe I'm always watching you because you're always watching me?"

"Bullshit." She folded her arms across her chest. "Is it some dominance thing? You have a problem following a female?"

He folded his arms, mirroring her. "I don't have a problem with either your race or gender, Shepard. But if you have a problem with me, you can always leave me behind once in a while." His anger began to get the better of him, because he _did_ have a problem with her. He continued. "Of course, you'd have a hard time finding a sniper as good, particularly one who can keep up with your suicidal pace. I thought I'd been doing a good job keeping your ass intact. Half the time I don't think you even look before you act, let alone think." He knew the moment the words left his mouth he shouldn't have said them.

"Watch your tone, Vakarian." her voice lowered dangerously. "This is still my ship and I'm the only one making the rules here. If you can't treat me with respect I have no room for you."

He cleared his throat, knowing he had pushed her too far. "You're right. I apologize, that was uncalled for."

She gave a frustrated exhale before continuing. "I didn't come here to start an argument."

"What was it you wanted to discuss?"

"You've worked with humans before." It was a statement, not a question, but he could see she was expecting an answer.

He inclined his head, "I have."

She regarded him for a moment, perhaps waiting for him to continue. When he didn't she spoke again. "You've worked very closely with humans before though, it was something long term."

He nodded again, wondering to himself how the hell he was going to explain things when he was unable to really _explain_ things.

Her head tilted to the side as she continued to examine him. "Odd ... your records don't indicate that."

_Shit._ "It's, ah, classified Shepard."

"Classified you say? Well, I used my status to request an advanced background check, too lookup your entire history. Nothing showed up about you working with humans, nothing at all."

He folded his arms across his broad chest again, hoping he could get her off this subject. "Some things even Spectre status can't uncover."

Her eyes narrowed, "What are you hiding from me, Vakarian?"

_More than you could possibly comprehend, Shepard._

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. What the hell could he say to that? _Why yes, Shepard, I worked with a different version of you in an alternate reality. There were Reapers and Cerberus and Collectors and a bunch of people you haven't met yet. Either that or I'm crazy as a pyjack trapped in a basket of red sand._ "Shepard, I'm sorry, I just can't discuss the details." He paced a few feet, "and even if I could? It's not my story to tell."

"If you can't discuss it, I understand. I don't like it, but I understand." She ran a hand through her hair. "Can you talk about any nonspecific details then, or just a brief rundown? I'm curious how you manage to blend so seamlessly with an almost entirely human crew with no difficulty."

He considered it.

"I had a previous mission. It was a mixed group of races, but mostly human. Very high stress, very dangerous. I grew close with several crew members, though there was one human in particular who – spirits – who affected me, changed me, in a way that no one else ever has." He paused for a moment, memories of her passing through his mind like a slide show. "We were a great team together. A _great_ team. I looked up to her. She was a hell of a leader and she was a hell of a friend."

"So you meant it when you said my being female wasn't a problem for you."

"I did. In case you've failed to notice Shepard, I rarely say things I don't mean."

"I have, in fact, noticed that." She continued, almost grudgingly, "and it is something I do appreciate, even if it rubs me the wrong way on occasion."

Of course she would appreciate his direct manner of speaking. Jane had, too. He looked down at her. Times like this he almost felt he could talk to her in the same candid way. _Almost._

"What was her name?" she asked, prodding for more.

"Jane." He answered simply.

"Another Jane, like me."

_Well, Shepard, that statement is loaded question_. He snorted; it came out sounding like a strangled laugh. "No, nothing like you, _Red_."

For one moment they simply stood there, regarding one another. Finally he turned away, clearing his throat once again. He always did that when he was uncomfortable. "Would you mind if we continued this another time? The Mako isn't going to fix itself."

"Of course."

He listened to her retreating footsteps.

_What the hell are you doing, Garrus?_

XxXxX

Days passed with no mention of their conversation. She never once alluded to his mysterious past mission and things remained business as usual. He was grateful for it.

xXxXx

They were out in the Hades Gamma, a little planet called Chohe the first time he really saw her lose her shit. He'd seen her lose her temper plenty of times, but this time she lost her composure. He wasn't certain anyone else had noticed. It was unsettling.

Hackett had sent them out here to investigate potential terrorists at a research base. Wrex was driving the Mako after he'd grumbled enough about her lousing driving. She had been sitting in the incredibly uncomfortable jump seat, which was probably the real reason Wrex wanted to drive. Garrus was at the guns.

At first he didn't notice anything other than a sudden tension, an increase in her alertness. She peered out the windows on all sides before settling back down. Though, to call it settling was a misnomer, one hand gripped the arm of the seat so hard it actually creaked, the other clenched and unclenched seemingly of its own accord.

He heard it the next time, felt it, too. Just the faintest rumbling could be heard, and a slight vibration which didn't come from the Mako itself. She pulled her shotgun from her back and seemed to take a deep breath. He glanced at her stats in his visor; her heart rate was definitely up.

"Wrex," she said, not taking her eyes off the windows "turn east, head for those mountains ASAP." Without turning around she spoke to him. "Garrus, make sure you're ready at the guns."

"Something wrong, Shepard?"

She managed to hide, just barely, the tremor in her voice, "I'm not sure."

She glanced back at Garrus for a moment; he could just make out her eyes through her visor, but well enough to tell that something was definitely wrong. Another rumbling, louder this time, closer, followed by a distinct shaking. Nervously she strapped her shotgun at the base of her spine again and instead reached for the grenade launcher, arming it. The rumbling continued, closer, louder, the Mako began shifting.

One word popped into Garrus' head. _ Akuze._

"Make sure that cannon is ready, Vakarian." The tension was now coming off her in waves.

"Ready Shepard."

The ground suddenly erupted not twenty yards from the Mako, rocking it violently. "Thresher Maw!" barked Wrex.

"No Shit! Wrex, we're going to have to circle that thing, no way can we outrun it. Garrus, hit it hard with everything you can!"

He managed to fire off a hit from the cannon and worked the guns while it recharged; she continued to bark orders at Wrex, directing him around it while trying to keep them just within range of the guns. His next shot with the cannon was a direct hit, though it didn't seem to have done much damage.

"That didn't even slow it down!" he called down at her.

"_Keep shooting_!" she called back. "Wrex, hard left, it's trying to cut us off! I said HARD left!"

Another hit from the cannon, this time it drove the maw underground. "Fuck!" She shouted, "Circle right, Wrex, all we can do now is hope to fool it." Garrus glanced down at her for just a second. No longer in her seat her eyes were scanning the windows, the tightness in her practically vibrating in the confines of the Mako.

The ground heaved suddenly, seeming to tilt on its axis, they were airborne. Time itself seemed to stretch beyond the seconds that actually passed before they finally hit the ground, upside down. Shepard had flown into the opposite side of the Mako, landing with an audible impact. It was pure luck they continued to roll until they were right side up again, but that luck didn't hold.

He tried to fire the cannon again but nothing happened, the damage it took had been too severe. "Shepard, the canon is down! No response!"

"Fuck!" she yelled, righting herself. "Guns still online?"

"Guns still online," he responded, firing it as much as he could while trying to keep them from overheating.

"Wrex, slow down, but don't stop! I'm getting out."

Garrus swiveled towards her and shouted. _"What?!"_

She ignored him. "You and Garrus keep it busy. Don't stop moving for anything. Got it?"

"Got it Shepard," Wrex answered as she slid out of the still moving vehicle. The door closed behind her. Wrex laughed from the front, "That female has got a quad!"

Garrus didn't share the krogan's urge to laugh. All he felt was his stomach drop when he saw her out there, outlined against the form of the thresher maw. She looked so goddamned _small. _

"Wrex, you have to get closer, keep that thing from focusing on her!"

"I know what I'm doing, turian." He grumbled. And thank the spirits, he meant it.

Garrus wasn't certain he took a single breath during the next five minutes. She sprinted around the beast, trying to stay opposite the Mako, a difficult task on foot, and loosened grenade after incendiary grenade at it every chance she had. Every time he saw the thing even start to turn towards her his heart thudded in his chest. He tried to focus on hitting it with the guns, he really did, but when she lost her footing and fell, vanishing from sight he couldn't seem to take his eyes off where she had been. The second he saw her on her feet and running again he was back at the guns furiously, nearly overheating them a half dozen times.

After at least a dozen good hits it finally went down, slamming into the ground with a resounding crash, its innards seeping out onto the hard surface of the planet. He watched as Shepard's form stilled. She doubled over, hands on her knees. She remained in that position until Wrex pulled up beside her.

Garrus slid down from his seat, opened the door and stepped out. When he reached her he took the grenade launcher from her shaking hands. "You alright, Shepard?"

She was heaving, trying to catch her breath and it took her some time before she could finally respond. "Just trying to avoid vomiting into my helmet, Vakarian." He placed a hand at her elbow and guided her inside the Mako, directing her to the jump seat.

Wrex continued to act as though the entire episode had been choreographed for his enjoyment. "Heh heh heh, I'm beginning to like you, human."

She grunted in response, took a few deep breaths and finally ordered, "Get us to that base, Wrex. I want to deal those terrorists and get the hell out of here. The faster, the better."

"Got it, Shepard."

Garrus couldn't read her expression through her helmet, now splattered with gore and dust, but her hands continued to shake.

He returned to his seat and did his best to keep his eyes on the surroundings.

xXxXx

The trip back to the Normandy was unusually quiet. When they arrived, she stripped off her armor silently. He glanced at her a few times. She was paler than normal, her eyes haunted. She stowed her dented armor in her locker and left.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning he didn't see her make her usual rounds. That in itself wasn't particularly strange, he'd watched her enough to know she was less a creature of habit than the former Shepard had been. When he'd realized she had missed a meal, however, he began to grow concerned. As far as he knew she'd been in her quarters since they completed the mission the day before. He was half of mind ready to go up there and see if she was alright.

_Not your concern._

He knew they'd be going out again in a day or two, and he also realized she hadn't repaired her armor after the thresher maw. He wasn't certain how badly it had been damaged, but he knew it had been. As he worked on the Mako his eyes kept traveling over to her locker. _Not your problem,_ a voice in his head kept telling him.

He repaired what he could of the cannon, but realized that without additional parts he couldn't finish it. Its innards were little more than a twisted mass of metal more suited to scrap than anything. He removed the offending wreckage and typed up a list of necessary parts. Then, biting out a curse to himself, he grabbed his repair kit he headed over to her locker. Ashley looked up when he approached, but didn't say anything until he'd taken Shepard's armor out and laid it out on the work bench.

"Help you with something?" She asked, clearly displeased to have her space invaded.

"Shepard took a few bad hits yesterday. You know, thresher maw." He waved his hand dismissively, "Just wanted to see how much damage there was. She's going to need it again before long."

"I doubt she'll be happy with you messing with her armor." She failed to hide the irritation in her voice.

Spirits, he missed future, or past, or... hell, he just missed Ash as she had been after she got over her whole 'alien' aversion. "I can handle it Williams." He noticed a broken latch on a gauntlet and a crack in the shoulder plate. The shoulder plate should probably be replaced, but until then it could be repaired. He opened up his repair kit and noticed Ashley's scowl had deepened.

What was the human saying? Two birds with one stone?

"If you'd like to give me a hand though," He nodded towards Shepard's locker, "see what she has for spare parts in there. She needs a couple of new latches, looks like a seal needs replacing, too."

His hands moved over her armor with a practiced touch. Though she'd upgraded over the years the standard N7 armor remained for the most part the same. He popped off one of the broken latches. "Thanks," he muttered when Ash handed him a replacement.

She watched him silently for a few minutes before speaking, "You seem familiar with human armor."

He shrugged. "Armor is armor, it all functions basically the same."

"I suppose." She responded, watching him closely.

He checked the newly replaced latch before moving on to the cracked shoulder plate. The crack was deep enough that would definitely need replacing, but he could repair the damage in the meantime. He pulled out a couple of tubes from his repair kit and began mixing.

"You can't combine those, they won't bind." He looked up at her, realizing that she didn't know this particular trick yet. She had been the one to show it to him initially, back during their race to put together the crucible.

"Watch and learn." He applied the compound to the crack and pulled out his UV light and torch. He handed her the light, "Hold this above it while I apply the heat." The compound smoked, settled into the crack and hardened almost immediately.

"That's… really interesting." She tapped the warm seal with her fingernail, a metallic ping sounded. "It's a lot harder than I would have thought."

"It's harder and stronger than anything on the market that I know of. Not as good as new, of course, but as close as you can get."

"Where did you learn that?" She was interested now and moved closer to him while she inspected the repair.

He almost laughed. "An old friend taught me that trick."

"Thanks for showing it to me." She looked up at him, while she wasn't smiling, the scowl had been erased at least.

"Glad to."

Her brows drew together for a moment. "If you don't mind my asking, why did you want to come along?"

_This time or last time, Ash?_ "If a human had betrayed the people they had sworn to protect, would you want to go after them?"

"Well, yes."

"It's as simple as that." He answered.

"But on a ship with a human only crew?"

"We've all got the same motives, Williams." He shrugged, "besides, the crew isn't human only. We've got Wrex and Liara and Tali…"

"Yeah, but it just must be weird, being the only turian on board."

He thought back. It had been a little strange, back then. "Maybe a little, but I've been around humans enough to know our species really aren't that different." He motioned to the armor in front of them, "just the shape."

"Maybe…" she didn't seem wholly convinced, but at least he'd given her something to consider.

xXxXx

By the time the next shift was over and Shepard still hadn't made an appearance Garrus was beginning to get worried. Worried enough to even make his way up to the CIC and see if she'd been up. Pressley hadn't seen her, or so he claimed. The XO was rather short in answering him, and didn't go into detail. Joker hadn't seen her in the cockpit, either. Chakwas claimed to have seen her early in the morning; she'd spoken with Alenko for a few minutes before grabbing some food and heading back up into her cabin.

At least she'd made an appearance, though he wasn't particularly thrilled she'd stopped to talk to Kaidan. The two of them spent more time together than he thought was necessary. He considered going to Kaidan and asking him if she had brought up what had happened the day before, asking him how Shepard seemed today, but changed his mind. The last thing he wanted was to alert Alenko that Shepard might be in need of a shoulder today. He would imagine that the biotic would trip over his own feet trying to get to her.

And though he realized he had no claim to Shepard, neither did the human.

He kept trying to tell himself it wasn't his problem. And, really, it wasn't. Maybe it was just the fact that except for a few small differences, she physically resembled his Shepard, and seeing that anxious, haunted look on her face brought out his instincts to protect her. He doubted any intrusion on his part would be welcome, they weren't exactly warm towards each other, but at the same time no one else appeared to have made any effort to see if she was alright.

_Or maybe you're just asking for trouble, Garrus. _

He went to the liquor cabinet and grabbed something human which didn't smell like industrial solvent and headed to the elevator, cursing himself along the way. The slow ride to her cabin gave him time to think, and he couldn't help but realize the best thing he could probably do is turn around and head back down to his nest in the Mako. He gave up on that thought the second the elevator doors open. He knocked on her door and announced himself, half expecting to be turned away. Her muffled voice came through the door instead, "it's open."

He realized he'd never seen her quarters on the SR1 the first time. They were much smaller than the SR2. The bathroom was little more than a locker with a toilet and a shower head in the ceiling. Without the fish tank it was much darker. It felt cramped, or maybe he was just feeling too large in his skin.

Her back was towards the door when he entered. "What can I help you with?" She asked without turning away from her desk.

"I wanted to let you know that Williams and I repaired your armor. Replaced some latches, fixed a seal and a couple of cracks. You might want to look into a new plate for one of your shoulder guards, the crack was pretty deep." She still remained bent over her desk, "Also, not much I can do with the Mako without some additional parts. I've got a list of what we'll need."

"Appreciate it." She put aside her datapad and turned around to face him. Leaning back in her chair she folded her hands behind her head and asked. "Now, why are you here?"

He scratched the back of his head; at least she was direct. "I, ah, hadn't seen you on your usual rounds. Just wanted to see if you were alright after our outing yesterday." He held out the bottle. "And I brought some refreshment."

"Checking up on me?" She leaned forward to read the bottle. "Peppermint schnapps?" She snorted, one corner of her mouth lifting. "That's your idea of a peace offering?"

He shrugged, "Yeah, well, it didn't smell too badly. And you avoided answering. _Are_ you alright?"

"I'm fine, Vakarian, just catching up on some paperwork." Her gaze was as cool as ever, "and, in case you failed to notice, I'm not the type to fall apart." And as prickly as ever, too.

"I didn't say you were, Shepard. But after what you went through on Akuze… "

She held up her hands for him to stop. "Save your breath. A lot of people far more qualified than you have talked to me about Akuze. I'm fine."

"You weren't fine, Shepard."

"Vakarian-" her tone held a warning tone, but he pushed on anyway, getting less pleasure from her irritation than he'd become accustomed to.

"Shepard, I've seen you in a collapsing mine with a Krogan battlemaster gunning for you and you barely broke a sweat. But yesterday with the thresher maw you were not _fine."_ His voice deepened, the rumbling became more pronounced as his level of frustration rose.

"Did we kill it?" She didn't bother hiding the sarcastic bite in her words.

Spirits, she was obstinate. "That's not the point," he ground out.

"No, that's not _your _point. But it is mine. Let me say it again. I'm fine. Do you really think the Alliance would have put my name forward towards Spectre status if I had a bad case of PTSD?" He was glad to see that her annoyance was becoming more and more difficult to mask as well.

"Shepard, I saw your face. Lie to yourself if you want, but I saw the way your hands shook. You were not fine."

She stood and confronted him. "That is enough!"

"Shepard, I'm _just _concerned." He tried to modulate his voice; he tried to sound like he was being perfectly rational, which had been his intention when he'd first walked in. The way she got under his skin made the task nearly impossible.

"I don't need your help." With a frustrated exhale she raked both her hands through her hair, closing her eyes for a few seconds, before dropping her hands. She took a deep breath. "Jesus, you're not my mother, Vakarian. I'm a lot stronger than I look. I don't need you here playing nice."

"Oh? You don't seem to mind Alenko playing nice." _Shit._ Even before the words were out of his mouth he regretted them.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously, glittering beneath her lashes.. "I don't see how that's any of your business, but if you must know I allow Alenko to play nice because Alenko IS nice. It's your motives I don't trust."

"No, you talk to Alenko because you don't have to _say_ anything to him. It's all, 'Oh, my faulty implants! My migranes!' He never asks about you." He felt the last of his control slipping away.

She protested, "That's not true-"

"Nooo… of course not. I'm sure he occasionally throws in a 'How're you Shepard.' But I highly doubt he has the balls to pry an ACTUAL answer out of you."

"What the hell make you say that?" She was livid now.

"Because he doesn't want to KNOW the real you! He's too hung up on Shepard the Hero to give a damn what makes Shepard the woman tick!" He took a deep breath. He did not come here to fight, and yet here they were. It almost seemed inevitable.

"So that's why you're here? You want to know what makes me tick?" She leaned in close enough that he could feel her breath, "I'll tell you what makes me tick. It's the job. Simple as that." She stabbed him in the chest with her finger to emphasize her point.

He wanted to grip her shoulders and shake her, but he managed to control the urge. "I don't buy that. There is more to you than that, Shepard."

"There isn't. And if there is it lives outside the job, and if it is outside the job it is not your concern." Out of the corner of his eye he watched a muscle in her jaw clench. "Why are you so goddamned pushy Vakarian? "Aren't turians supposed to be the perfect soldiers?"

He huffed. "I am not a very good turian."

"_That_ I gathered." She turned and stalked towards her desk. Pulling open a drawer she removed a bottle half full of amber liquid and poured herself a glass. She took a swallow, turned around and propped a hip on the desk before continuing. "If you weren't such a good fucking shot I would drop you off somewhere and not look back." She mumbled something to herself and took another sip of her drink.

"Shepard, I'm trying to be reasonable."

She raised an eyebrow, "And yet your version of 'reasonable' has pushed me to start drinking when an attack from a thresher maw failed to do so. Doesn't speak too highly of your tactics."

She was right, of course. He rubbed his forehead. "I was just … concerned. You looked shaken, _really _shaken yesterday and I didn't see you today so I wanted to check in – I see now that I overstepped."

She sighed, "It seems we have a knack for irritating each other."

He couldn't very well deny the truth in that statement and simply nodded.

She took a deep breath, "I _was_ shaken yesterday."

He managed to hold his tongue despite his surprise.

"Hell, I was scared shitless." A choked laugh erupted from her.

Even he could see the absurdity of it.

She spoke again, "I learned a long time ago that fear isn't bad, as long as you don't let it overwhelm you. Keeps your senses sharp. Hell it's the only thing which kept me alive on Akuze."

"I doubt you survived on fear alone."

"You're right. Fear helped keep me alive, but I also had a hell of a lot of dumb luck. I'm not a fucking hero, Vakarian, I'm just lucky." She snorted and muttered, "If that is your idea of luck." She swallowed the last of her drink and set the glass aside. The mask she usually disguised her emotions behind fell back into place, she crossed her arms and regarded him for a moment. "Now, if you don't mind, that is the_ last_ I want to hear about Akuze."

"Understood."

"I'd also like you to understand that I do not need or want anyone hovering over me wondering about my mental state - AND, when I say I'm fine I mean I'm fine."

"Yes, Commander."

She nodded to him once and turned back to her desk, dismissing him.


	5. Chapter 5

Shepard took a few deep breaths and counted to ten. She'd learned quite a few exercises during anger management therapy. The alliance had forced her to take the courses, and she grudgingly admitted they had helped some. She had always had a rather short fuse. And she was using the techniques regularly with one of her crew members in particular.

The turian.

She still hadn't figured him out.

Oh, she'd figured a few things out about him. He was infuriating and stubborn and assertive and he knew precisely what to say to set her off.

She pushed aside the datapad and returned to her drink instead. Truthfully she'd stayed in her quarters today because yesterday had shaken her. More than she would have admitted to anyone; Alliance psychologists included. But anyone who had been actively hunted by two thresher maws and lived to tell about it had a right to that fear.

She had been honest when she told him that it was fear which kept her alive on that planet.

Fear and a hell of a lot of dumb luck.

"He's too hung up on Shepard the Hero to give a damn what makes Shepard the woman tick!"

Her hands were shaking again, she realized. She pulled out a pack of cigarettes she kept stashed in her desk and lit one. She hated being called a hero.

She'd been called that since the day they'd found her nearly dead on that horrific planet. Half of her armor had been damaged beyond recognition, the other half she'd ripped off herself, trying to give her burning skin some relief. The acid had eaten through what was left, fusing her body suit to her skin. She had been in agony for god knows how long when they finally found her. Days or weeks she didn't know. But by that point she hadn't wanted rescue, she just wanted end to the suffering. And leaving her there for dead on the planet that took her fellow soldiers would have been a fitting end.

She wasn't a fucking hero. She was just tough.

At least the turian didn't seem to consider her one. In fact, the arrogant bastard could use a bit more deference. Though she did in fact appreciate his blunt honesty, even if it made her want to deck him at times. She grudgingly admitted to herself that she had to respect him for having the balls to stand up to her and say precisely what was on his mind. Few people did.

Why he continued to follow her when they exasperated each other to such a degree she didn't understand. Truth be told she never really understood what made people want to follow her at all. It was effortless on her part, nothing she did consciously. It just happened. For as far back as she could remember it just happened naturally. Perhaps that was the reason he stayed on board.

He really didn't seem to like her much, that was for certain, but she knew she wasn't a terribly likable person. Effective, yes, Likable, no. She made an effort with her crew of course, both an attempt to be friendly as well as keeping the worst of her temper under control. Anyone holding back for fear of pissing her off could compromise the entire team. And she got on well with them; in fact, she truly liked most of them.

Garrus though?

Oil and water. She had a hard time not reacting to him defensively. And he seemed unable to resist hitting her buttons.

And yet – after yesterday he had been the only one to come up and check on her.

She had no idea how she was supposed to interpret that.

Neither could she understand what the hell made him comment regarding her talks with Alenko.

She sighed and stood up, rolling her stiff shoulder and pouring herself another drink.

She liked Kaidan. She really did. He was a little soft around the edges for her, but she genuinely enjoyed his company. It was easy to talk to him. Granted, he generally did most of the talking, but she didn't mind listening, and it was nice to get her mind off of the mission once in a while. But had Garrus been right? Had she been seeking out Kaidan because of how easy it was? Because she didn't really need to share anything of herself?

She shook the thought from her mind. She had more important things to focus on, and just because the frustrating turian didn't approve of her was no reason to start dissecting her relationships with the crew. She finished the last of her drink, put out her cigarette and got back to work.

Though she'd be lying to herself if parts of their conversation didn't echo in her mind throughout the evening.


End file.
